


Who Tempts the Tempter

by MelayneSeahawk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Afternoon Tea, Angelic and Demonic Magic, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Book Elements, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), December - Freeform, Divinity Kink, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, IK Server Exchange, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Canon, Seduction, Show Elements, Snakey Crowley, Temptation, Tempter Aziraphale (Good Omens), but make it sexy, but not Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk
Summary: Aziraphale Tempts Crowley to try to get them together after the Apocalypse; Crowley realizes he's doing it, and is so amused (and turned on) that they fall directly into bed
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113
Collections: All Gifts Left In A Server For More Than A Fortnight





	Who Tempts the Tempter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Literarion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literarion/gifts).



> A very, _very_ late gift for Literarion for the Ineffable Kink Meme Server Exchange, who requested an Aziraphale/Crowley seduction story featuring divine or occult powers, a happy ending, and divinity kink. I was very happy to provide, even if RL made me so very late.
> 
> Many thanks to Skipper for the beta, TawnyOwl for answering some Brit questions, noodlefrog for sprinting with me for the last 2k words of this, and to Lang, for not murdering me in my sleep despite being so damn late on this.
> 
> (Mild dub con tag because the sexytimes begin while Crowley is still under the influence of Temptation magic, but he's aware of it)

Aziraphale knew he could be a little set in in his ways. Living for six thousand years, not to mention the unknown aeons before the creation of the world, could do that to a person-shaped being. And it had caused him discomfort before: sure, it wasn’t usually a problem that his clothes were often decades out of date, but when he’d gone to Revolutionary France in noble garb, he’d almost lost a corporation; or, less catastrophically but more embarrassingly, when he made faux pas because a given piece of slang had changed meaning (the word “boner” came to mind).

Not to mention, he had years and  _ years _ of inertia to move past, in this case. Not a full six thousand, but very close. And four months was barely a blink of an eye to a being like him. Surely he had to be forgiven for taking some time to adjust.

Aziraphale shook his head at his own excuses, staring down somewhat morosely into his tea. He could give excuses forever, but when it came down to it, it was his fault that it was four months after the failed Apocalypse and he was alone in the bookshop, with Crowley off who knew where, because the demon still thought Aziraphale wanted him to keep his distance.

As soon as Aziraphale had realized he enjoyed the demon’s company -- oh, back in Rome, and the oysters they’d shared had been lovely -- he’d also almost immediately realized how dangerous that could be. If either of their employers had found out…it didn’t bear thinking about. He struggled with the conflict between the desire to spend time with Crowley and the worry, and he knew his mixed signals hurt the other being. He knew Crowley loved him, knew  _ he _ loved him back -- realized it after that whole debacle with the the prophecy books and that trio of very unpleasant Nazi spys, but the  _ feelings _ were likely much older -- but he’d been far too terrified to act on it. Spending time together while raising Warlock had been both a delight and one of the scariest times in his whole existence, but since they were already going against the Plans of Heaven and Hell, it had felt almost negligible to break this rule, too, even if they still had tried to hide.

But now all that was over, they were free of Heaven and Hell, and the Apocalypse had at least been delayed, but he was still holding Crowley at arm’s length, dithering over how much time they spent together, of  _ going _ places together, rather than just meeting there. He knew Crowley well enough to know that the demon wasn’t going to make the first move, not after years of Aziraphale’s reticence -- Crowley was always so respectful of his fear, so kind, even if he didn’t like to hear about it -- so it would be up to the angel to make the first move.

The question was,  _ what _ to do to make Crowley see…

***

All of Aziraphale’s ideas were abject failures. The invitations to dinner and the theatre and the like were all enthusiastically accepted, but Crowley didn’t seem to think there was anything  _ different _ about them. The hints at changing their relationship status, using references to times when one or the other of them had taken human lovers in the past, were met with frowns and spiky silences. Even the attempts at double entendres and innuendo sparked confusion, though that could have been Aziraphale’s outdated slang once more.

Yes, he probably should have been more direct, just sat Crowley down and said, “frankly, my dear, I adore you,” but even now he couldn’t bring himself to be that plain-spoken about it, and any hints of talking about the events of the failed Apocalypse, to get at how the world had changed, so maybe things between them could, too, were met with speedy topic changes. Aziraphale didn’t blame Crowley for wanting to pretend those last few harrowing days hadn’t happened, but it was terribly frustrating at times.

Aziraphale was probably a little too deep in his cups when he had the idea, one night when a flustered Crowley had accidentally been chased from the shop by an apparently too-lascivious reference to one of dear William’s plays. But it had gotten Aziraphale thinking about that time, more generally but also when they had met at the Globe, to discuss Edinburgh.

To discuss Aziraphale doing wiles for Crowley.

That was it, Aziraphale realized. Just a smidge of Temptation, not enough to make Crowley do anything he didn’t want, just to encourage him to accept Aziraphale’s initial overture, then let the power ebb and let things follow naturally. Besides, Crowley would sense the magic, and could counter it if he wished.

It was the perfect plan.

Foolproof.

(It was maybe a mark of how desperate Aziraphale was that it still felt like a good idea when he’d sobered up the following morning.)

***

The first chance Aziraphale had to implement his scheme was a couple days later, when they already had plans to get afternoon tea together at the Savoy, a pure indulgence for Aziraphale that Crowley seemed to enjoy pampering him with. The demon always insisted on paying, and always let Aziraphale have the lion’s share, watching intently as he ate.

At first, things progressed as usual. Crowley picked him up at the bookshop, they bickered goodnaturedly about Crowley’s driving on the way, and then the perfect parking spot was miraculously open when they arrived at the Savoy. The maitre d’ showed them to their usual table, tucked into a corner where they could people-watch while Aziraphale ate.

"Oh, do let's order some champagne, as well,” Aziraphale said, when the waiter came to take their order. "The Louis Roederer Brut Premier, that will do quite nicely."

"We celebrating something, angel?" Crowley asked, one eyebrow raising above the frame of his glasses.

“Can we not just be glad that we are alive, surrounded by all the wonderful things the Almighty Created and that humans have embellished, free of any…prior entanglements?” Aziraphale asked, knowing he was laying it on a bit thick, but Crowley’s incredulity was clear in every inch of him. “Fine, consider it to be a surprise, then,” he added, and as he breathed out, he let loose just a tiny bit of celestial power, though rather than blessing either the dining room or the couple hoping for a baby at the next table over, like he normally would, he channeled his own desire, throwing it out to Crowley like the most delicate of fishing nets, to see what he might catch.

It had taken Aziraphale time, back in the day, to figure out how to twist his miracles to serve as wiles, too. Crowley had not been wrong about the balance of the power between them, nor had he been wrong that they could rather easily do each other’s jobs, but it had taken Aziraphale time to convince his magic to obey, even after his mind had been made up. By now, though, he was old hat at it, skilled at not only seeing weak spots where a human’s psyche was susceptible to influence -- the Sins were just the opposites of the Virtues, after all -- but also at dipping into his own vices, gluttony and greed (and lust), to encourage misbehavior. Aziraphale had never been good at living the ascetic existence Heaven preferred, and it had taken a long time, and some help from Crowley, to realize that that wasn’t the worst thing.

Building a Temptation like this, focusing on a single being and encouraging their baser instincts, took a delicate hand, and reminded Aziraphale of constructing a house of cards, or replacing the covers and binding of a damaged book. Careful attention paid to how each facet of the Temptation interacted with the others, never moving on until the last piece was firmly in place. Sometimes it wasn’t even necessary to use magic, or easier to use a mix of magic and more mundane means, which meant that Aziraphale had more in his metaphorical arsenal than just the magic.

They chatted idly while they waited for their order to arrive, sipping on the rather excellent champagne. Aziraphale watched Crowley perhaps more intently than usual, which seemed to have the demon a little flustered, but he didn’t comment. Aziraphale could see the magic hovering around Crowley if he let his eyes go unfocused, and he was reasonably sure the slight flush on the demon’s cheeks wasn’t just from the champagne and the warmth of the room. Then, when the tea things arrived, Aziraphale really got down to business.

He knew Crowley enjoyed watching him eat, and he  _ assumed _ that at least some of that had to do with how…demonstrative he could be about enjoying his food, so he leaned into that, praising each dainty sandwich and intricate pastry, playing up just a little the sounds of his enjoyment as each morsel crossed his lips. Every so often, he added just a tiny bit more magic to the Temptation he was building around Crowley, perfectly timed with each bite or sip or exclamation, so it felt natural, rather than forced. Crowley’s eyes were still hidden by his sunglasses, but Aziraphale could feel the intensity of his gaze as if it were a physical thing.

***

Aziraphale worked his way through the sandwiches and the scones, and was finishing his tea between bites of fruit tartlet when Crowley seemed to realize the angel was up to something. “So, did the kitchen do especially well today, or are you just in a mood?” the demon asked, and Aziraphale allowed the slightest smirk to sneak onto his face. “What are you up to, angel?”

“You’ve always said you like it when I’m…I believe ‘a little bit of a bastard’ was your phrasing?” he said, and Crowley laughed. “Do you trust me, my dear?”

“Of course,” Crowley replied, expression suddenly serious.

“Then do not fret,” Aziraphale said, taking another bite of the tartlet, carefully licking the crumbs of crust from his lips rather than removing them with a napkin. Crowley’s tongue flicked out to lick his own lips, seemingly reflexively, and Aziraphale noted with glee there was a definite snakeyness to its shape. “I promise, I will explain when we get back to the bookshop, if you wish.” Crowley nodded vaguely.

Aziraphale had saved the eclair for last, making his last push of Temptation as he  _ accidentally _ caused the side of the pastry to burst, so he had to lick a pearl of the mousseline filling from his fingers. Crowley’s gulp was audible from across the table, and this time Aziraphale’s smirk wasn’t hidden at all. “Shall we get the check?” Aziraphale suggested, and Crowley actually  _ miracled _ the poor waiter to them to take care of the process of chip and pin, and soon enough they were out on the kerb, a light dusting of snow falling around them as Crowley opened the Bentley’s door with a flourish, making Aziraphale laugh. “Fiend,” he said, affection clear in his voice, as he got into the car, and then they were dashing back to Soho.

“You’re definitely up to something,” Crowley said, as he pulled into his usual parking space in front of the shop. Aziraphale glanced at him before getting out of the car, but Crowley didn’t seem upset, just intrigued. He followed Aziraphale to the bookshop door, which opened with a wave of Crowley’s hand -- and Aziraphale hadn’t taught it to do that, not that he minded -- and then they were inside, but before he could even start removing his outer layers, Crowley had him pressed against the closed bookshop door, noses almost touching, sharing unnecessary breath.

“You were Tempting me, angel,” Crowley practically growled, and Aziraphale could feel the blush coming out on his cheeks.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, though it hadn’t been a question. There was no point in demuring, not when he was  _ so close _ to getting what he wanted.

“Playing a little prank on me?”

“Not at all!” Aziraphale said, standing up a little straighter, which just had the unintended side effect of bumping their noses together. “I would never, my dear.”

“Then why would you…oh,” Crowley interrupted himself, and Aziraphale held his breath, hoping Crowley would understand at last. “Why didn’t you just say something, angel?”

“We don’t talk, not about the important things,” Aziraphale said. Crowley started to take a step back, but Aziraphale brought his hands up to grip Crowley’s lapels, which made the demon smirk. “I thought maybe, if I encouraged you…”

“What, you were hoping I’d ravish you?” Crowley asked, tone joking, but he must have seen something in Aziraphale’s face, because his smirk deepened. “You  _ did _ . Naughty angel.”

“It’s not a sin if it’s about love!” Aziraphale said, then slammed his mouth shut, unsure how Crowley would take the declaration. He’d rejected every compliment Aziraphale had tried to give him for  _ years _ ; how would he take  _ this _ ?

“Oh, angel,” Crowley said, expression softening. “I love you, too.”

Aziraphale heard himself gasp, then he was closing the distance between them to capture Crowley’s lips in a kiss.

***

Time lost all meaning as they kissed, first gentle and almost chaste, then suddenly going deep and a little wild when Crowley’s lips opened under his and that snakey tongue came into play. Aziraphale didn’t know how long they stayed like that, kissing against the inside of the bookshop door, until Crowley took a half step back, separating their lips but not removing his hands from where they had, at some point, settled on Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Crowley teased, voice a little hoarse, but rather than being offended, Aziraphale chuckled.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” Crowley said, grinning. “And I intend to discover every one. Do you still have a bedroom upstairs?” he asked, as he grabbed one of Aziraphale’s hands and started leading him to the backroom.

Aziraphale chuckled and nodded. “Do you want me to disperse the Temptation?” he asked, but Crowley shook his head.

“Nah, adds spice,” he said, with a wicked little smile. “Come along, angel.”

Aziraphale let Crowley lead him through his own shop, into the backroom and up the stairs to the flat above. Crowley had never been up here, but somehow he unerringly found the bedroom, turning on the lights with a click of his fingers as he crossed the threshold. Aziraphale had made sure that there were no books cluttering the mattress or teacups left on the night tables, in the hopes of what might happen, but Crowley looked around, expression hidden.

“My dear, will you take off your sunglasses?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley pulled the frames from his face, tossing them to land on the nearest night table, next to a pair of Aziraphale’s own reading glasses. He turned to look at Aziraphale, and without the dark lenses hiding his eyes, it was clear they were full of emotion: happiness and hunger, and love, too.

“Next time, we can do this the human way, but right now I don’t want to wait,” Crowley said, and with a click of his fingers, they were both naked, making Aziraphale laugh, even as  _ next time _ made his insides shiver in anticipation. “ _ Someone _ , angel, you’re gorgeous,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale felt himself blushing even harder. He liked his corporation well enough, but it was nice to be appreciated.

“So are you, my darling,” Aziraphale said, and it was true. Crowley was all lean lines and slim, hidden muscle, a smattering of red hair on his chest and groin, shimmering black scales beginning on his calves and continuing down to cover his feet. He was a study in contrasts, pale skin and vibrant hair and scales and eyes, and Aziraphale wanted to  _ touch _ .

Clearly Crowley did, too, because they met in front of the bed, falling into another deep kiss as their hands explored one another. Crowley’s skin was cool and dry under his questing hands, while Crowley’s own fingers seemed intent on memorizing every hair and mole and curve. Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how they wound up on the bed, but when they next came up for air, they lay facing each other on the counterpane, hair mussed and cheeks flushed. Aziraphale noted distantly that he’d already left a small mark low on Crowley’s neck, and it thrilled him.

“Tell me what you like,” Crowley said, with a flattering urgency. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

“Anything, darling,” Aziraphale said, a little surprised at the breathlessness in his own voice. “I just want you.”

“You have me,” Crowley said, a little growl in his voice, and rolled them, so Aziraphale was on his back, Crowley rearing up over him. “I got to watch you put all kinds of things in your mouth all afternoon, now it’s your turn,” he said, before swooping down to press biting kisses in a path from Aziraphale’s neck to his groin.

Aziraphale groaned, tangling his fingers in Crowley’s hair, but forced himself to keep his eyes open and watch as Crowley worked his way down his chest, worrying at each nipple for a moment before continuing down, kissing over the curve of his belly to the slight jut of his hip. The demon spent a moment there, nibbling and sucking to bring a lovely bruise into being, then, before Aziraphale could catch his breath, he took Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth in one smooth, gorgeous slide.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried out, and vaguely heard a slight chuckle in response, but his focus was pulled in tight to the glorious suction around his cock, the occasional flickers of Crowley’s inhuman tongue, discovering his most sensitive places. Crowley’s slim fingers couldn’t seem to decide where to settle, dancing over his hips and thighs, exploring the base of his cock and the swell of his balls and the soft, sensitive skin behind them. Then Crowley rubbed a firm knuckle against his perineum, and Aziraphale came with a shout, pouring down Crowley’s waiting throat.

***

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, when he got his breath back a little.

Crowley had gently released him as he’d softened, and was resting his head on Aziraphale’s hip, grinning like the cat who had gotten the...well. “Why’re you apologizing? You did exactly what I wanted.”

“It wasn’t exactly my best showing,” Aziraphale said, but Crowley was shaking his head, pressing another kiss to the bruise on his hip before moving up the bed to lick into his mouth, sharing the taste of Aziraphale on his tongue.

“Not every orgasm has to come after a marathon,” Crowley pointed out when he pulled back, and Aziraphale had to admit he was right.

“Very well, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “Can I help you take care of that, at least?” he asked, pointing to the obvious indicator of Crowley’s arousal, laying hard and red against his belly.

“Mm, how could I say no?” Crowley practically purred. Aziraphale tugged at him until he was laying half on top of him, cock nestled in the space between Aziraphale’s hip and thigh. “Ooh, good idea,” Crowley said, hips jerking. Aziraphale settled his hands on the spare curve of Crowley’s bum, both to give him something to press against and also just because he  _ wanted _ to, and urged Crowley to move.

Crowley’s body undulating against his own was a whole different kind of pleasure; not as overwhelming as his mouth on him, but still delightful. And, now that he wasn’t so distracted, Aziraphale realized that his Grace was seeping out of the edges of his corporation, filling the room with ethereal warmth and light; he guessed his halo was probably visible, too. He glanced down quickly, but Crowley didn’t seem harmed, face screwed up in pleasure as he thrust against Aziraphale’s hip. The Heavenly magic seemed to have burned off the last of Aziraphale’s Temptation, and he could see just a touch of Crowley’s own essence expanding out past the confines of his mortal form.

Despite any fears Aziraphale might have had, the places where the ethereal and the occult touched didn’t seem to be fighting each other; instead, they glittered like stars, filling the room with celestial light that grew along with Crowley’s sounds of pleasure, grunts and sighs and the occasional call of Aziraphale’s name. Aziraphale smiled, pressing a kiss to the sigil on Crowley’s temple, and whispered, “Come for me, my love.”

And he did.

***

In the afterglow -- which Crowley teased him for being a  _ literal _ glow, but Aziraphale didn’t mind -- they miracled the sweat and stickiness from their skin and climbed under the blankets, curling up together as if unwilling to go more than a moment without touching. Which, in Aziraphale’s case at least, was true.

“You still could have just said sm’thing,” Crowley muttered sleepily, nose tucked into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder, a place he was certain now had been shaped with the demon in mind. “D’nt have to get all miracley over lunch.”

“I’ve been dropping hints for weeks, my dear,” Aziraphale said, tightening his arms around the drowsy demon. He wasn’t one for sleeping, himself, but he was happy to be Crowley’s pillow for as long as the other being liked.

“Oh, ‘s that was that was?” Crowley asked, before yawning hugely, tongue flicking out against Aziraphale’s pulse for a moment. “Thought you were teasing me about havin’ a crush on you.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, that was never my intention.”

Crowley nuzzled tighter into Aziraphale’s neck and sighed happily. “Gonna get my revenge, ‘ngel, just you wait. Gimme a break for some shut-eye, then you’re gonna get it.”

“I can’t wait,” Aziraphale said with a pleased smile, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s hair as he felt the demon drop off into sleep. “I’ll be right here when you wake.”

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog link](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/post/639461137709187072/who-tempts-the-tempter-melayneseahawk-good)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://melayneseahawk.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
